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Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Living in Dushanbe (and earning that differential) – Travel

Dushanbe is one of the highest differential posts in the
world.According to the State
Department’s arcane schedule of Things That are Hard to Live With, Dushanbe is
just as difficult as garden spots like Caracas, Mali, or Congo and only slightly less hard to live in than
Afghanistan.Most of the time I
feel like we found a pretty easy way to beef up our retirement accounts, but
every now and then I run into something that I most definitely have to agree
with State about.

And today I’m here to tell you about Dushanbe and
travel.Because every time we
travel I have no doubt in my mind that Dushanbe really just as bad as Papua New Guinea and only slightly better than Afghanistan (although I haven’t looked up
their travel options, so they might have a better deal).

Dushanbe has an international airport, one that just
finished new construction about a week before we moved here (although the
parking lot just opened up last month).The word international implies
that you can go to all sorts of exotic, international destinations.And you can go to some
destinations.And even exotic ones
(okay maybe Urumqi isn’t that exotic).But you certainly can’t go to all the international destinations.Want to go to Moscow, Istanbul,
Khujand, St. Petersburg, Bishkek, Urumqi, Almaty, Novosibirsk (me either), Tehran, Dehli, or Frankfurt?That’s great because you can go there
via direct flight!But, not every
day of the week.If you want to go
to Frankfurt, your choices are Saturday or… Saturday.Because that flight’s only once a week.Moscow has daily flights, but who wants
to go to Moscow?Dubai has a
whopping three flights a week (oh the choices!) and Istanbul and two or three,
depending on the whims of Turkish Air.So spontaneous travel is less of an option.You could drive to Uzbekistan, but not on a whim because,
visas.Same for Afghanistan.So if you’re an avid weekend traveler,
Dushanbe is not the place for you.

This year we got a little more spontaneous that usual.I booked our tickets way, way back in
March after years and years of scrambling for tickets a day or two before our 30-hour ordeals.I felt so smug, so clever, so forward
thinking.Then, twelve days before
our departure, that whole coup-thing happened in Turkey.And suddenly all of those plans didn’t
matter because we weren’t going to be flying through Turkey anymore and the
other choice was Frankfurt and it was Monday and our only option - Saturday - was only five days
away.So, last minute scramble and
tickets showed up the day before traveling, again.Planning ahead never
accounts for those pesky coups.

Then, of course, there is what time the flights occur.We had friends visit last fall and were absolutely floored that their
flight left at twelve o’clock.Like in the middle of the day.When it’s light outside.Because pretty much every other flight
that takes you somewhere else leaves at three in the morning.Or five.When we left for our R&R in July, our ride picked us up
at 12:30 AM.If you think a day of
international travel is bad, try it on a two-hour nap (if you’re lucky).

Then there are the connections.Oh, the connections.Last year we spent 6 hours in Frankfurt going and 7 coming.This
year we spent 8 hours coming and eleven hours coming.Our original flights, before that coup
thing happened, we only had a six hour layover in Toronto.Which compared to eleven isn’t so
bad.We just got permission to fly
direct from Istanbul (allowed again) to DC and I was oh so excited to not
have six hours in Toronto, but instead it was six hours in Istanbul (Dante left
a circle out).Don’t want six
hours in an airport?Well then it
will be four flights instead of a
measly three.No matter which way
you slice it, there is no way to get from Dushanbe to the east coast (I really
feel for the west coasters) in less than 24 hours.And that’s on a two-hour nap.

And then there’s the return trip, which really is the most
worst part of all.Because not
only is it long, but you don’t even have a vacation to look forward to at the
end of it all.Just unpacking and
trying to find something, anything to
eat in your bare empty kitchen.

Friday morning we had family pictures.Sunday morning everyone stumbled off
the airplane in Dushanbe in the exact same clothes – because they had been
wearing them since Friday.After
taking pictures Friday morning we packed suitcases and headed to the airport in
Springfield, Missouri.We checked
in (oh how wonderful it is to check in at a small regional airport) and got on
a flight to Chicago.Friday night
we went to sleep (or went unconscious, or watched movies) on our way out of
Chicago.Saturday morning we woke
up in Frankfurt where we spent the day.Saturday night we went to sleep (or whatever) on another airplane and
woke up Sunday morning in Dushanbe, at 2:30 AM.It really sounds like fun, doesn’t it?

And then, to finish it off, there is the jet lag.Oh, the jet lag.First you have to deal with the day you
land.All you want to do in the
entire world is go to sleep.Because you haven’t been horizontal in three days.But you can’t.Maybe you can take a nap, but only a
nap because when nine o’clock rolls around you want to be able to go to
bed.Staying up late only prolongs
the agony; the only way to get over jet lag is to actually get out of bed the
next morning.So the first day is
spent wandering around the house like a zombie trying to break up fights and
making abortive attempts to unpack the suitcases that exploded right inside
your front door when everyone was looking for toothbrushes (because fuzzy
teeth) and clean clothes and whatever else is suddenly pressing at 4:30 in the
morning when you finally get to your house after two hours of passport control
and customs and the endless, endless, endless wait for bags.

And then finally, finally, after that endless days that finishes with scrounging something for
dinner (frozen beans and toast.Definitely dinner) and wrestling children into pajamas, you can go to
sleep for your first full night’s sleep in days.There’s nothing more beautiful than your own, soft, not
lumpy not flat, pillow in your very own room with your very own bed.

Which is the very same bed you will wake up in around 1:30
and turn and roll and stare at the ceiling because there is no way possible you can actually sleep.Your body is exhausted, your mind is
screaming for oblivion, you know that in the morning will be work and children
and responsibility so you would possibly sell your first-born child for sleep
if you could only find the person who would buy them, but they’re nowhere to be
found. They're probably asleep. So instead you stare at the
ceiling some more.Or the
wall.Or read a book.Or count sheep.And finally, finally you fall
asleep.Then your alarm goes off
five minutes later.

Then it happens the next night.And the next.And maybe even one more.Until
you realize that sleep is an illusion and it will never come and you are doomed
to spend your days roaming the earth as a sleepless zombie but that’s okay
because you’re really fine and falling asleep in thirty seconds while reading a
story to your child is completely normal.

And then, the nightmare is over.You sleep.Your
suitcases get unpacked.Dinners
get cooked.Children are
enjoyable.Spouses are not trying
to ruin your life.And life seems
possible again.The nightmare is
over.

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Us

We're a family of eight traveling the world one country at a time.
Brandon's a diplomat and the rest of us (Ashley, Kathleen, Sophia, Edwin and Joseph, Eleanor, and William) are just keeping him company.